


There's Something About Draco

by Barry_Manilows_Wardrobe



Series: Files of H. Potter [3]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Draco Is Competitive, Established Relationship, Fluff, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-01-29 23:10:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12641220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Barry_Manilows_Wardrobe/pseuds/Barry_Manilows_Wardrobe
Summary: “Is Malfoy coming?”“Would he miss an occasion to dress up?”“I reiterate that introducing him to Halloween was a terrible idea.”“He’s just competitive,” Harry defended with a grin.  “It’s not the holiday itself that was a bad idea.  It was the existence of prizes for best costume.  Post-awards Draco is very sexy.”





	There's Something About Draco

**Author's Note:**

> A short vignette that slots in the October before Harry finds out he's a wizard.
> 
> This goes before Chapter 11, here: [There's Something About Harry](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11495061/chapters/25787013).  
> And before: [There's Something More About Harry](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11913426/chapters/26920338).

**January 2**

“What is that?”  

“What’s what?”  

“That magazine you’re reading.   Unless you have something to tell me, I’m not entirely sure why you’re reading something with a _very_ , um, _casually_ dressed witch winking on the cover.”  Harry paused to take a sip of his rather tepid cup of coffee, presumably forgotten in his haste to spy Draco’s reading material.  “ _Very casual_.”

Draco only offered a cough.  Hoping he would drop his line of inquiry.  He was half way through _Which Wireless Witch Are You?_  And hoping for Celestina Warbeck.  Or… Brasil Gangrel.  He was certainly better looking than Gangrel.  Although more of a high tenor…

“I didn’t know you enjoyed a magic carpet ride under the sunset.”  Harry said, having somehow gone from sitting across from him to standing behind.  

Draco snapped the magazine closed.  “I was just looking for the advertisements.”

“In, um, _Witch Weekly_?”

“Mother loaned it to me,” Draco was eternally grateful for the OWL post.  No need for incriminating mailing labels.  Although the practice was excellent for keeping tabs on his errant partner.  Draco had confiscated no less than _fourteen_ unsavory publications.   _Fourteen_.

“For the advertisements.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Well, I for one would not mind if you decided to wear that off-the-shoulder number.  I think it would be very flattering for a _decidedly adult_ University professor.”  This was said while Harry walked into the kitchen, still in his robe.  And slippers.  Draco scowled, but opened the magazine as soon as the coast was clear.  Incidentally there was an ad on the page.  For masquerade robes.  Which reminded him.

“Have you thought about your Halloween costume yet?”

Under the background of the kettle, Harry leaned out the door frame.  “Draco.  It’s the second day of January.”

The year prior, Draco had not only won Patil’s costume contest – with the prize of a very foul bottle of Pumpkin Schnapps (still a win) – but he had introduced Mother to the custom of Halloween.  She had taken to it with a fervor that was equal only to Draco’s own.  He’d had no idea that there was an Agency that let Hags.  They had already been discussing whether the Ministry would fine them for _borrowing_ coffins just for background dressing.   _You just can’t replicate the patina_ , Mother had said.  And Draco had to agree.  “You can’t put these things off to the last minute, Harry.”  This was very pointed as Harry was a past master at putting things off to the last minute.  

“Can I have a few months to consider at least?”  The cupboard creaked.  Draco would have to talk to the Elves about that.  Before Harry found some of his WD potion and leaked over the floor boards.

“This is a very serious consideration, Harry,” Draco pondered whether he was more of a green or lavender sort of fellow.  He went with green.  “Your decisions will haunt you,” he snorted, “literally for the rest of your life.  A photograph lasts a lifetime, you know.”

Harry came out with a plate of scones in his left hand, a cup of tea in his right, and a cup of coffee sandwiched between his torso and the crook of his arm.  “How about… I promise to put some serious thought into it.  And you give me more than two days of the year to consider?”  He put the tea down near Draco and then retreated to the armchair with the scones.  Draco _accio_ ’d several over.  “And you tell me which Wireless Witch you are.”

As it turned out, Draco was neither Warbeck nor Gangrel.  Instead he had been paired with some random Wireless Witch he had never heard of.  Although as the photo was in black and white, he assumed it predated even Mother.  He was _not_ that stodgy.  He quizzed Harry to a chorus of _You can do that?_  And _Good Lord, why don’t they just use computers?_

 

**October 5**

“I can’t wait to see what you’ve put together,” Draco said, sitting in a three-piece white suit – apparently spelled – and his face had lost some of its color.  It was weird to see his blue eyes against what Harry could only presume was a white mask.  Although it could be a trick of the mirror.  Draco being in England and Harry in his office at Durmstrang.

“What on earth do you have on your face?”

“A cream foundation.  White.”  Draco was always very good at describing colors to Harry.  Unless he was in a strop.  “I’m a ghost.”

“ _Oooh…_  What class?”

“Presumably ’32.”

It was 4 o’clock and the Durmstrang Department party began at precisely 5.  Or thereabouts.  Trelawney and Flitwick had gone for the alcohol and had not been sighted since 1pm.  Harry was thinking about sending one of the postdocs after them.  He had no idea where they’d gone however and visiting every liquor store or supermarket in the area did not seem very efficient.  He really had to reconsider his ethical decision to _not_ put a tracking device in the shoes of his fellow academics.  He had managed to put one in Ron’s – he had agreed rather readily as he always seemed to be losing them – and knew that Ron was headed up.

“I have to go.  Ron is coming.  I’ll see you soon.”

“ _Ta_.”

“Mr Weasley.”

“Harry.”  Ron sunk onto one of the stools in Harry’s lab, careful not to touch anything.  He, like Harry, was not in a costume.  Instead he was in a dark pair work slacks and a blazer.  He thought the blazer was probably in deference to Hermione who would be there shortly.  

“So what are you?”

Ron looked down and then fished something out of his pocket.  With a papery peel, he stuck something to his chest.  A **_Hello, My Name Is:_ Dean Weasley**.

“Nice.”

“Well, you are supposed to dress to the job you want.”  Ron gave him a nervous once-over.  “You know that Malfoy’s going to kill you when he sees you without a costume.”

“Hey.  I’m wearing an orange sweater at least.”

“I hate to tell you this, Harry … but it’s pink.”

“Fuck.”

“I’d swap, but pink is definitely not my color,” Ron pointed to his hair.  He knew Harry was color-blind so he added, “Red and pink being clashing colors and all.”

“Well, I’m certain I have something around the office I can upcycle,” Harry said, looking around the lab.  Opening the locker, he pushed aside shoes and ties and a _broken motherboard?_  before finding his doctor regalia.  Rom had stenciled in _dark green_ on the tag along with _Potter_.  After a bit more fishing around, he also found the matching tam.  “Are these the same color?”

“Yeah, but it’s a bit, er, wrinkled.”

“Um… Maybe I just came out of the closet?”

“There you go,” Ron said with a snort.  He looked down at his watch.  “It’s just five.  Should we reconvene to the conference room?”

The room in question - now plastered with a poster of a ghost saying _paranormal distribution_ \- was done up in photocopied posters of mummified Freuds and spiritualist effluvium (actually white cloths).  Slugworth - in his traditional toad costume - was already at the candied pineapples and several of the postdocs were circling the table like the jackals they were, waiting for the pizza and making due with the ten tons of Costco snacks Harry had carted over via the trunk of Draco’s car.  He’d had to store them in the bedroom as he hadn’t a wand to turn it back into a regular trunk.  

Flitwick and Trelawny arrived just ahead of Hermione and set about making the infamous ID-famous Punch while departments started filing in, having looked forward to this all year.  

“Hermione.  Are you… toothpaste?”  Hermione was in a poster board tube with a Colgate stencil and holding a large plastic toothbrush.

“ _Obviously_.  Someone has to remind everyone of the evils of sugar.  Besides,” she adjusted the tube a bit to get around the table, “I got this giant toothbrush at a conference and it was just gathering dust on the wall of my office.”

“Not even _sexy_ toothpaste?”  Hermione gave Ron a look as Harry coughed into his hand.  “Er, not that you’re not always sexy, of course.”

“ _Of course_.”  But she kissed him - her tin-foil crimped cap taking little damage - and then grabbed a bottle of water from the table.  “Is Malfoy coming?”

“Would he miss an occasion to dress up?”

“I reiterate that introducing him to Halloween was a terrible idea.”

“He’s just competitive,” Harry defended with a grin.  “It’s not the holiday itself that was a bad idea.  It was the existence of _prizes_ for best costume.  Post-awards Draco is very sexy.”

Hermione put up a hand.  “You can stop there.  Unless you want to hear about what we,” she motioned between herself and Ron, “get up to my four-poster.”

“No, no.”  Ron said, dropping his solo cup of soda and then - rather spectacularly - catching it before it stained the conference room carpet (tarped for just such an instance).

“Fair enough.”

Draco slipped in at some point and Dumbledore made a beeline towards the two before Draco had fully made his observation of Harry’s ‘costume.’  “Dr Malfoy, so good to see you.  I was just telling Harry that it happens every time.  Al-bussing after we open the Dumble-door.”  Harry snorted, but Draco did not appear to be any more amused with Dumbledore than he had ever been.

“Long trip,” Harry explained before guiding Draco to the Doritos.  

“You know your colon is almost undoubtedly riddled with years of _cheese_ ,” he put the word in air-quotes, “dust.”

“Eh, probably.”  He followed the Doritos up with candy corn pumpkins - his favorite - and then a healthy pour of Coke (almost certainly adulterated).  "I'm still not going to drink your kale smoothies."

“Oh, a _black and white_ movie!”  Someone said.  To which Draco corrected that he was, in fact, a ghost.  

“And you must be… _Dr Malfoy_!”  Trelawney said to Harry, coming alongside.  “How adorable that you’re dressing up as your partner’s favorite things.”  Harry was fairly certain that she was saying that Draco’s favorite thing was Draco - Harry’s obviously being a ghost - but let it slide.  It had gone over Draco’s head.  And it was slightly true.

“I would never wear a rumpled robe,” Draco said over the rim of his… he had somehow transfigured his solo cup into a punch glass.  “But you make an adorable, if mussed, Slytherin.”

“Oh, am I going to _slither in_ to your bed later?”

“That depends--”  But Harry never figured out what it depended on as Hagrid, the Head of Housekeeping, had just come in with his dog in a spider costume.

He’d had no idea Ron had arachnophobia.

 

**October 12**

“It’s slim pickings, Harry,” Ron had gone down the next aisle at the Halloween pop-up in town.  “Do you prefer a viking or…” He looked at the packaging, “A sexy… wizard?  I’m not certain the Viking helmet will fit around your head.  No offense.”

“What exactly makes the wizard ensemble sexy?”  Harry was rooting around a giant discarded pile of second-guessed items that hadn’t been reshelved yet.  “Is it blond and about… 6’1”?”

“You know that you and Malfoy are disgusting, right?”

“Isn’t that what makes us endearing?”

“I have to admit that I’m really only in it for the beer.”  

“And Hermione.”

“And Hermione,” Harry intercepted Ron’s smile.  “We’re going to her parent’s house this Sunday.  I’m going to meet her Aunt.”

“Oh, Aunt Gertrude?”

“Why does that sound so ominous?”

“The key to Gertrude is to have your own ailment before she sets in on hers.  I learned more about stool than I wanted to a couple of Christmases ago.  Although I assume the crabs must have cleared up by now.”

“Good Lord.”

“And if Florence is with her, make sure your butt is to the wall at all times.  She’s a pincher.”

“I repeat: Good Lord.”

“But it’s worth it if she brings the pecan pie.  Believe me, it’s legendary.”

“Noted.  So, viking or sexy wizard?  I think sexy is in the incredibly thin material of the robe?  It is a shiny gold color with a shooting star.  And, it comes with a hat.”

“Which one are you eyeing?”

“Well, as the viking ensemble doesn’t include an upper, I think I’m leaning more towards the wizard.  Huh.”

“What?”

“This one comes with glasses and a fake scar.  Weird.  Maybe you need glasses after reading all those spell books?”

“I can’t very well wear fake glasses over my own glasses.  Let’s go with the basic one.  The sexy wizard.”

“If you back out on me at Patil’s party, I’ll kill you.  I really will.”

“Ron, if I don’t at least try to dress up I’m going to end up in the dog house.”

“With Padfoot?  Or his Mom’s dog?

“Bellatrix is not that bad.”

“It took a shit in your foyer, Harry.  It made eye contact with you the whole time.”

“Actually, Bellatrix was making eye-contact with Draco.  They don’t much get along.”

“In this _one thing_ he and I agree.  I can’t believe Customs let that one get through.  Although she probably ate the Agent.”

*

“I would like to point out that those,” Draco pointed at the red horns Harry had on his head, “Do not count as a costume.”

“You should be careful about baiting the Devil, Mr Bond.”

Draco rolled his eyes.  “I’m _obviously_ MI-6.  No,” he lowered his voice, “Upstart MACUSA for me.”

“I’m going to tell Felix you said that.”

“You’re not even on speaking terms yet.  The last time we were at the dog run, even the little wrinkled thing he has wouldn’t come near you.”

“I’m fairly certain it’s a shapeshifter.”

Draco snorted, although careful not to spill any of his Manhattan.  “I’m fairly certain I saw it sliding it’s arse on the pavement.  I’m to assume then that it was doing some sort of an Arts and Crafts?”

“You should have more faith in me, Draco.  I have unerring paranormal sense.”

“Well, I suppose one must have _some_ sense, anyway.  Barring the common.”  Draco was rather pleased with his riposte, although Harry just grinned at him.  The man had no shame.  Speaking of… “I’ve something to show you in my car.”

A raised eyebrow.  “Sure, I’m almost finished with this.”  This being the house beer.  “Congrats on the win, by the way.”

“There wasn’t any competition.  Not really.”  Draco had yet to release the plastic gun he carried.  It would have ruined the effect - even if he had to drink his Manhattan with his left hand.  “And I just had this lying around.”

“You keep a $10,000 suit just lying around my house, do you?”

“One never knows what Halloween will necessitate.”

“No, one never does.”  With farewells to the rest of the Pub Quiz crew - and a reminder about Padma’s party - Harry followed Draco out to the Audi.  Draco popped the trunk.  “This isn’t suspicious in any way.”

“No, but look.  There’s a high fructose corn syrup treat right there!”  Draco infused it with as much excitement as he could.  He couldn’t really understand Harry’s eating preferences.

Predictably, Harry gave off an _Oh_ , before noticing there was a trail of such down the stairs.  He turned towards Draco - candy corn in hand - and said, “I wonder what is going on here?”  He didn’t sound as curious as Draco thought he ought.

“I couldn’t say.  You might have to get in there to see.”  This was actually quite exciting.  In the off chance that they would be in anyway intercepted - Weasley or Granger often could follow after to finish some bit of conversation - Draco had cast _disillusionment_ charms and a general Muggle deterrent line.  Anyone who came within 10’ of the Audi would suddenly have the overwhelming urge to use the nearest urinal.

With an arched brow - and a turned lip - Harry climbed down the stairs and into the neat one-bedroom flat that existed _only_ in the trunk of Draco’s Audi.  Draco walked slowly behind, closing the trunk behind him, watching as Harry followed and collected his sweets.  Which led to the bedroom.

“You may have to go in,” Draco said over Harry’s shoulder.

“I had gotten that general idea,” but Harry was smiling.  “But this could be a trap.  We should go in together.”  And before Draco could voice his dissent, Harry had tugged him through the doorway.

Which led to _both_ Harry and Draco ending up tied up on the bed.  

“I’m going to say this is ridiculously sexy, Draco.  Even though I don’t quite understand it.”

Draco breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth.

 

**October 19**

“Aren’t you a dear,” Narcissa said in the way that she had of judging without the external trappings of judging.  “I really applaud your having gone into it so wholeheartedly, however.  That’s Draco’s ‘04 isn’t it.”  

“Very good quality,” Harry said, running a hand down the lapel of Draco’s bathrobe.  It was silk.  The tile floor of the ballroom had been modified to look like moss - the theme being some sort of a forbidden forest - and he was grateful it wasn’t the usual cold flooring.  He was barefoot, after all.  “You do give the best gifts, Narcissa.”  

“Yes I do.  You should go rescue him from Carrow, however.  He’s bound to talk about his views on secondary education.  Rather foul person.”

Harry nodded and walked over.  Once Carrow had heard that he was a professor - several functions ago - he had been favored with a long discussion on the merits of corporal punishment in education.  He wasn’t entirely sure why they invited the man.  But he was - and probably would always be - ignorant of wizarding social niceties.  “My goodness, Potter,” he said, a steaming goblet of _something_ in hand.  “But are you wearing a Muggle bathrobe?”

Draco turned and his mouth was agape.  It wasn’t often that he was able to surprise Draco.  But he had vetoed the _sexy_ wizard costume.   _That’s just offensive, Harry_.  

“I am.”  Harry said with a great deal of confidence.  Carrow was just in his dress robes, so at least Harry had gotten the memo that it was a Halloween party.  He also noticed that Bellatrix had her leg up against one of the fake trees that lined the room.  He thought it best not to say anything.

“Would you excuse me, Amycus,” Draco made his farewells and pretty much frog marched Harry into Narcissa’s drawing room.  Narcissa’s retiring room was off-limits to anyone who wasn’t Draco, Harry, or Narcissa.  “You’ve no pants under there do you?”  It was hard to respond as Draco was about a hair’s breadth from Harry’s face.

“ _No_.”

Draco’s mouth was warm and tasted of wine.  They angled wrong at first and Draco pulled Harry’s head slightly to the right, fixing it.  With a push, Harry fell on Narcissa’s horse-hair divan.  Draco had the belt to his robe in his hands.  “You are absolutely rubbish at Halloween, Potter.”  But he was on his knees and had Harry’s cock in his mouth before Harry could even respond.  Draco was rubbish at understanding positive reinforcement himself.  If this was the response to shoddy costumes, Harry was never going to put any effort into it.   _Ever_.

He was so loud when he came that the portrait over Draco’s head - an Armand - woke up, started, and then ran from his painting.  One of the china dogs near Narcissa’s fireplace turned it’s head.  And Draco paused, his mouth slowly pulling off of Harry’s cock, two slick fingers in his arse - which had sunk rather conveniently towards the edge of the divan under Draco’s onslaught.  “Be a dear, Potter, and lean over the the arm of the sofa.”  Ever diligent, Draco used one of the macassars as a barrier between Harry and the sofa.

“I’m not entirely sure whether your ancestors are going to recover from what they’ve seen,” Harry said later, still a little ruffled from Draco’s cleaning spell.  

“Malfoys never give up their own,” Draco said with a great deal of confidence.  As Harry was in firm possession of many incriminating facts about Narcissa, he wasn’t entirely sure Draco's secrets were safe.

“Oh, Draco!”  A school friend of Draco’s said, finding them later.  “Your Muggle looks so realistic!  He’s even got the sleep tousled hair.”

“Score for Potter.”

“I had to _help_ you with adding depth to your costume,” Draco huffed.  

“I don’t know what I would do without you,” Harry said, nuzzling Draco’s neck in the shadow of a rather suspiciously realistic looking coffin.  “I am only a Muggle.”

 

**October 26**

“I can’t even…” But apparently Granger could _even_ as she used her phone to take snaps of Harry and Weasley in their ridiculous wizard kit.  As Draco had been spending most of the year working on _this_ costume - a very realistic Doctor Strange - it was a little disconcerting to have his partner gain so much attention.  Although in gold lame to Weasley’s silver that was fairly easy to do.

“What are you?”  One of the other Weasleys - they all had red hair - asked, coming up behind Granger for another beer.  This one would have been rather good looking if it weren’t for the freckles.  Although, obviously, no Potter.  For all his ridiculous get-up, the brevity of fabric did allow a nice view of Harry’s calves.  And the static cling did nice things to his arse.  

Draco had cast more than one stinging hex on persons - usually women - who got too close to it.  There was now a warning that the wall outlet was throwing out random sparks.  Diggory had suggested they call in an electrician.

“Toothpaste.  Someone has to remind everyone of the evils of sugar.”

“My dentist does that.”

“I _am_ a dentist.”  

Harry had a light-up wand that he’d tucked into the waistband of the plastic belt of his robe.  “Poor wand etiquette, Potter,” Draco offered moments after he’d allowed the Patils to gush over his _very realistic_ costume.  “You’ll hex your buttocks off.”

“Where do you have yours?”  Harry asked and Draco put his hand on his thigh.  “I have to say that Parvati is going to give you a run for your money tonight.”  They both looked over at Patil who was painted entirely black and spangled as Kali.  The plastic skulls were a nice touch.  

“I like to think that I’m raising the bar.”   _Quite a bit, actually_.

“Exceptional work, as always Doctor.”

“Of course.”  He had once again upgraded his Solo cup into a wine glass - this time having brought his own wine - and took a sip.  He was fairly certain that Carmen Sandiego was a MACUSA agent, but decided against saying anything.  She had, after all, brought some unpronounceable pastries that were very good.  Although he had to keep spelling the powdered sugar off his robes when no one was looking.  It would not do to spoil them before taking home the award for best costume.  Dawlish had been reassigned to Benedict Cumberbatch after discovering that someone had animated his cloak.  But it only moved when he wasn’t looking.  It was abominably hard to pin down due to the nature of the enchantment however and Dawlish was slated to be there for some months yet.  Through the judicious handoff of World Cup tickets, Draco had been given the actual costume used in the movie.  To be returned, of course.

“Are you having a good time, Malfoy?”  Cedric asked, having extricated himself from the Furies.  He was in a toga and Draco wondered if he’d wandered over from the University.  He had replaced Draco on their trivia team as he was now in England.  Harry had said that Draco could never be completely replaced and Draco could have told him that.  Etymological knowledge surpassed sports anyday.  

“I am--”

“Cedddddrriicccccc…” Maegaera - the jealous Fury - said, coming up behind Cedric and nearly knocking him over in the process.  Draco had no idea who she really was under all the hideous face paint.  But she certainly liked Cedric.  Despite himself, Draco did too.  

“They’re doing the awards, love,” Harry said, coming up behind Draco with a paper plate with pizza with every meat known to man on it.  Draco ripped off several sheets of paper towels in the eventuality - well, certainty - that Harry would need them.  

“I’ve had to recuse myself…” Parvati was saying, her real arm holding some sort of a plastic microphone that amplified her voice and alternatively would play Frere Jacques.  “As this is _my_ party.”  Cheers and boos.  Harry one of the most vocal of cheerers.  “But in Third Place and receiving this _lovely_ Flokati rug--” It had to be a joke, although Draco didn’t get it.  “Is Miss Hermione Granger.”  Granger accepted the purple bath rug with much grace before being assaulted by Weasley’s tongue.  “Reminding us that enamel is fleeting.”

“In Second Place…” Padma had the microphone now, waiting for it to work through it’s _dorme vous_ before continuing.  “Would be the delightful nymph _os_ \- Perks, Moon, and Turpin - who have apparently got their man.  Be careful Diggory!”  

“And finally… in First Place,” Parvati once again had the microphone, although she had used one of the mannequin arms to grab it at first.  “Is…”  She went completely quiet as a collective gasp went through the crowd closest to her.

“Do you suppose her knickers have come down?”  Draco asked Harry, who craned over a fellow in a horse mask.  

“No.  Luc is proposing.”

Draco couldn’t make out much of it, but did hear Padma’s _Yes, of course.  Yes_!  Which was not the announcement of who had won the costume contest.  “This is all well and good, but who is First Place?”  He asked, rather loudly as everyone had gone quite still in that moment before applause and cheers went up.

“Oh for fuck's sake, Draco, just come up here and collect your prize.  I'm getting married.”

“Harry!”  Draco marched back to Harry carrying his prize.  A $20 gift certificate to Denny’s.  Ordinarily he would be less than impressed.  But he had _won_.

“I’m so proud of you, Draco.”

“I told you the Malfoys had nailed this whole Halloween thing.”

Of course two hours later, Harry took his wand away after Draco, very, accidentally, caused the solo cups to dance on the counter.  “Yes, I know.  It could happen to anyone,” Harry soothed while Draco was on his lap on the broken end of Padma’s sofa.  “And I won’t even report you.”

Draco mussed his very soft hair.  Even the stupid padded wizard’s hat hadn’t flattened it.  “You’re so good to me, Potter.”

“I do my best.”  The next day Draco would only vaguely remember Harry bringing up something about finding a blood flavored popsicle at a shop near the College.   _I was fairly surprised that they made that sort of flavor.  But this just proves my theory that there are Vampires living in the Theta Nu House.  Which would explain why they never seem to be up in the morning…_

 

**October 31**

“Could you tell me again why we’re handing out floss to trick-or-treaters?”  

“The other dentist in my office retired, Harry.  I’ve got 20 cases.  They’re going to expire next month _and_ I thought they were better than candy bars.”

“But I’m going to lose my reputation as the cool house.”  Hermione gave him an arch look.  “The one who gives out full size candy bars.  Why are you here anyway?”

“You _always_ get trick-or-treaters.  I think I had one last year.”

“I think there is a good explanation for that,” Harry said, picking up a mini box of floss.

“ _Besides_ , your _boyfriend_ and his _mother_ are thwarting us from the garage.”

In the garage - and well away from Hermione - Draco had a large, quite realistic cauldron over heatless blue flames, whereby he dispensed candy bars and advice.  Narcissa had a martini in hand and usually backed Draco up on his pronouncements.  “You have an excellent bone structure,” Narcissa shouted after a teenager who was being chased by Bellatrix.  “Next year you should highlight what Merlin’s given you.  More rouge.  Less lipstick.”  She watched him hand a small child a candy bar.  “This is so droll, Draco.  Do they come begging for candy every year?”

“Every year.”

“I will never understand Muggles… Here you are,” she dropped another chocolate into yet another pumpkin shaped purse before Draco quickly fished it out.  

“Sweets for children.  Alcohol for adults, Mother.”  Narcissa had been dispensing travel size bottles of alcohol for the Muggle parents.  This had not been run past Harry.  But it had the effect of increasing their traffic four-fold.  Draco liked to win.

“But you were drinking wine by four.”

“That’s not done here.  Here you are dear…”

“Bellatrix!  Bellatrix, you naughty vixen.  Come back here at once!”

Draco had given the dog up as a lost cause.  Eventually it would return.  If only to make his life miserable.  “Did that mean woman give you floss?”  He asked and a tiny witch nodded.  “Well, let’s make a trade.”  He pointed to a large bowl of floss.  “I’ll take the floss and you can have a chocolate, right?”  

He hadn’t had a child refuse yet.


End file.
